on the sunday of life
by Los Desperados
Summary: Post-RE6. It's Christmas, and Chris is safe and sound back home. Jill muses.


**status** complete  
**prompt** _RE6_, man; also, Christmas  
**warnings** spoilers, suggested adult themes  
**background **six months after _Resident Evil 6_; December 25th, 2013  
**pairing** Chris/Jill  
**notice **I have no idea where this came from. I suppose it's either the Christmas spirit that got to me (or the absolute lack of it), or the fact that I've been sitting on my ass doing nothing for the past three days, other than tinkering with my iPhone. Turns out, I could post anything I typed without having to transfer anything to my pc. Ah, the wonders of technology. About the '67 Impala... _yeeeah,_ Supernatural got to me. I love that car. _And_ I was kinda bored to look up for something else. Also, RE6 kicks ass. 'Nuff said.

* * *

**on the sunday of life;**  
_for those who fight for it, life has a flavor the sheltered will never know._

* * *

Jill Valentine squeezed her eyes shut against the beaming rays of sun that infiltrated the bedroom she and Chris got to call theirs in their shared apartment. Mentally cursing at herself for forgetting to shut the curtains the night before, the BSAA operative rolled over and buried her nose against a very firm chest, belonging to none other than Chris Redfield himself.

"Hm," the large man grumbled drowsily, tightening his grip on Jill. "'Morning, Jill."

Jill suppressed a yawn of her own. "Hello to you, too." She reveled in his manly scent and soft material of his shirt for a long moment, before she withdrew from Chris' muscular arms and scooted over to the edge of the bed.

The clock informed the female agent that it was well past their usual waking hour, but Jill couldn't mind less. The world was at peace and they both happened to have a day off — oversleeping was a luxury they hadn't been able to afford in the past few years, what with both of them being constantly haunted by the ghosts of their past. Now that the opportunity was at hand, neither of them seemed eager to pass it up.

Chris watched through half-lidded eyes as Jill pulled her caramel-colored hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. After returning from Kijuju, it had seemed like a good idea to return her hair to its natural color. Bleach blonde seemed too abnormal on Jill's skull. However, for reasons alluding to the chemicals Wesker was pumping her with on Africa, Jill's body seemed to be rejecting the dark brown hair dye. It only took a shower on Jill's part for the dye to melt from her hair as if it was chocolate. Thus, she had settled for a color between dark blonde and caramel brown, which oddly stuck to her hair. Never one to complain — and after a very vivid reassurance from Chris — Jill had come to terms with the new color.

Not that it looked half bad on her anyway.

Jill stretched her arms until a satisfactory _pop_ was heard, before making her way to the kitchen. With eyes weighted down by sleep, she put the coffee and water in the coffee machine and pressed the button. She let her eyes drop shut for a moment, relishing in the serenity of the morning. Lazy mornings like this one were rare in their line of work, especially when the world was being overrun by terrorists spreading lethal viruses while the BSAA fought to contain the outbreaks. That, along with the fact that both Chris and her had been through a bloody hellhole in the past three years, each of them in their own way, had made the couple seize those rare moments of calmness and peace whenever they were being offered to them.

A pair of arms circling around Jill's waist snatched her out of her reverie and had her momentarily shocked. When a familiar scent reached her nostrils and a habitual kiss was pressed against the crown of her hair, the female agent let herself relax. Chris withdrew as fast as he had appeared, going to take a seat on one of the chairs, while Jill leaned against the counter, waiting patiently for the coffee to boil.

"It's Christmas," Chris mentioned offhandedly, his eyes searching the world outside the kitchen window that was strangely not covered in snow.

Jill nodded in agreement, following her husband's gaze. It was unnatural for Washington D.C. to not have White Christmas, as people liked to call it, but the weather hadn't been kind enough to award them with a few snowflakes this year. The temperature was dancing between zero and minus, but snow hadn't made an appearance as of yet. To Chris, snow made no difference. If nothing else, it served to make his transportation to work more difficult, and to remind him of Edonia.

Jill, on the other hand, liked to walk on the white blanket, built snowmen and draw angels on the frosty ground. It was a remnant of her childhood in Detroit. Back when her mother, Sarah Valentine, was still alive and spent every minute of every day by her enthusiastic daughter, teaching her things and showing her little bits of the world. Jill had once mentioned, over ten years ago, that whenever it snowed, Sarah would always dress her warm and take her out to play with the snow until her cheeks turned beet red. Chris had merely chuckled at the mental image of a six-year-old Jill with flushed cheeks and toothy grin.

"So, you know what's in today's schedule," he continued his train of thought as Jill poured him a cup of coffee.

"Besides Claire's fancy Christmas dinner?" she asked, frowning when she saw him sip the beverage without adding any sugar first. How he managed to drink black coffee was something Jill would never understand.

"Do you think she's gonna go all out on it?"

Jill covered her smirk behind her mug. "Well, she _is_ a Redfield."

Chris raised an eyebrow — a move Jill had identified as challenging. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

_Two can play this game, baby._ Placing her cup on the counter by her hip, Jill leaned over the table towards the man sitting on the other side of it and smirked seductively. "Oh, you know. You Redfields love to make a mess."

"That coming from your personal experience?" Chris coaxed her on with a sly smirk himself.

She brushed her lips lightly against his. "More or less."

Chris didn't hesitate in joining her, by pressing his mouth harder against hers. But the clashing of their tongues soon left them yearning for more. Chris wasted no time in breaking their heated embrace momentarily, before walking around the table and picking up Jill into his muscular arms.

The couple made it to the bedroom in a heated frenzy, missing half their clothes. This wasn't an odd occurence for them. The times they found themselves jumping each other minutes after they'd just slipped out of bed were numerous, and continuously increasing as time passed. Chris blamed it on the fact that they had been forced to separate from one another for too long and too many times already that they tried to make every second of their allotted time together count. Jill — ever the non-romantic — mostly attributed it to Chris' morning erections.

It was hours after their passionate lovemaking was over that the couple began preparing for the dinner at Claire's. They deliberately skipped lunch to catch up on some paperwork. Jill's stomach complained on occasion, but she ignored it, given the fact that Claire had told them to get there relatively early.

_Or else._

Jill tied the sash of her bathrobe tightly and exited the bathroom with her body lotion in hand. She found Chris lying on their bed, watching TV with a mildly interested expression on his face. Smiling privately, Jill nudged him with her toes.

"What is it?" Chris asked absent-mindedly, his eyes focused on the action movie playing on the screen.

Jill poured some lotion into her palm and proceeded to rub it against the skin of her legs. "Go shower. You know Claire will have our asses if we're late."

The muscular man diverted his eyes towards the circular motion of her hands against her legs for a brief moment, before starting to get up from the bed. "What with your actions, I'd say you were _aiming_ for making us late," he teased as he tugged his shirt over his head.

Jill rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Redfield. I don't need Claire shooting us up on Christmas Day."

A deep chuckle was heard from the bathroom. "My dreams will take that as permission."

On contrary to his wife, Chris didn't take half the time in the shower, and came out of the bathroom with droplets rolling off his hair and down to his chiseled chest. He had a single towel wrapped low around his hips and another one in his hands, which was currently used for towel-drying his short hair.

Or for turning her on. Jill hadn't figured that much yet.

Of course, to Chris, it was the other way around. Because Jill had chosen the exact moment that he stepped out of the bathroom to drop her bathrobe and rummage through her drawers for underwear. Chris groaned mentally. She was fucking doing it on purpose.

"Matching underwear? Really, Jill?" he inquired as Jill slid a lacy pair of ivory panties over her thighs.

With her back turned to him, she flashed him a foxy grin. "No reason to be unprepared. Someone might get lucky tonight."

Chris raised an eyebrow in mock concern. "You're not hooking up with Leon behind my back, are you?"

Jill could barely suppress her chuckle. "Oh, yeah. Fed sex; best that's ever been."

"Better than the BSAA?" he teased further.

Deciding to take up on his teasing, Jill walked up to him and pushed her naked breasts against his chest, earning a strained groan from the man. "Please, Redfield. He is an _undercover_ agent for a reason."

Jill laughed heartily as Chris spanked her behind with possessive jealousy. "You better not have had a look at what's _under_ the cover, Valentine. Or else—"

"What?" Jill cut him off. "You gonna spank me or something?"

Chris smirked at her suggestion. Dragging his lips slowly over the shell of her ear, he breathed against it. "Don't give me ideas," he whispered before pushing away from her and walking to the closet.

Jill frowned. Who did he think he was, turning her on and then leaving her hanging like that? Someone would be sleeping on the couch tonight. "Wear a tie," she said as she clasped her bra behind her back.

She could _hear_ Chris' scowl. "It's not a date, Jill."

"You never wore a tie on _our_ dates, Chris," she complained half-heartedly.

"That's 'cause we've never been on a date, Jillers."

This seemed to satisfy her — for now. "Nevertheless, Claire said it was going to be a fancy dinner, so I'm not having you show up looking like a hillbilly."

Chris rolled his eyes as he buttoned up his dress shirt, while Jill slipped quietly inside her blue dress. It was a rather simple dress that hugged her figure and stopped a couple of inches above her knees, showing a bit of cleavage as well. However, the radiance Jill emitted was enough to turn it into a ballroom dress.

"Besides," she continued her previous train of thought, taking the tie from his hands. "You look sexy with a tie on."

Chris smirked, his ego having just earned a boost. "I thought you said I was sexy with _only_ a tie on."

Jill laughed at that. "That, too. But unfortunately, we can't have you walking around with nothing but a tie."

"Why not? Scared that Kennedy's not gonna be able to compare?" he bragged unashamedly.

"More like I don't want anyone staring at that ass, sweetheart," Jill replied with a grin and a slap to Chris' firm behind. "Let's get going, Romeo. I'm _starving_."

With nothing more than a chuckle, Chris grabbed his jacket and followed her out of the room.

* * *

Claire had truly gone all out on the decorations. The Christmas tree took up about a fourth of her actual living room, leaving next to little space for the — apparently many — guests. Not that Jill minded. In all honestly, she was elated for participating in a feast like this one. Between her supposed death five years ago, Chris' last mission in Edonia, Claire's travels to help the victims of bioterrotism and so on, they had little to no time to get together like this anymore. When they weren't off saving the world, they were either up to their ears in paperwork or trying to sort their shit out.

But this time, everything seemed different. Outbreaks had been contained for the past six months, no evil mastermind was trying to unleash a lethal virus around the globe, and the sun seemed to cast no suspicious shadow over them. For the first time in a long while, Jill thought that it was truly going to be alright.

The doorbell of Claire's appartment snapped Jill out of her thoughts. Oddly enough — what with Chris' purposeful delay — they had been the first to arrive. Claire had been relieved that her brother hadn't stood her up again, albeit a little suspicious in the beginning.

A short while after they had arrived, the door opened to reveal none other than Leon S. Kennedy in all his dressed up glory. It had been a while since Jill had seen the man herself, but he seemed to be faring up pretty well. Jill had always thought that if there was a medal for bad luck, then Leon would have earned it without a doubt. The man had lived through almost everything she had, and he remained as calm and undeterred as ever. Jill was sure that he had had his own fair share of therapy in the past fifteen years, but Leon's ability to pull through was admirable.

The next person to come knocking was Sherry Birkin. Jill didn't know the girl personally, but through Leon and Claire's relationship with her, both she and Chris had felt as if they had. She knew how well Sherry handled herself on her first mission in Edonia and China, and she was proud of the young lady, given that she had survived Raccoon City as well, and especially at the tender age of twelve. Jill had faced the horrors of Umbrella and Wesker one times too many, but to be forced into this nightmare at childhood was unimaginable.

Strangely enough, Sherry hadn't let her past shape her up into a broken and disoriented person. Much like the rest of their little group, she had taken the bad memories and made shoes with them that helped her move on. She was a strong person, that much Jill knew. She would be able to pull through anything Neo-Umbrella dished out to them.

However, neither of the BSAA agents were worried about Sherry. No, their worries were directed towards her companion.

Jake Muller.

Chris had told her everything about his mission in China. About Simmons trying to release the C-virus into the entire world, about Ada Wong's clone being responsible for his men dying in Edonia, about the key to stopping this apocalypse being the blood of Wesker's son. The irony wasn't missed on Jill. Wesker had tried destroying the world not five years prior, and now his son was the only one who could save it? Life sure worked in mysterious ways.

Jake Muller was not a bad man of his own. From the little she had been able to see since him and Sherry had arrived at Claire's house, he was nothing like his father. While Wesker's hair had been blonde, Jake's was auburn, and his blue eyes shone without a glimmer of insanity in them. Wesker's paranoia hadn't been passed down onto his son. He was clear; a man fighting against bioterrorism just like they were. Jill didn't conceal her smile.

He was the man who saved the world.

Soon after, Claire's small apartment was stuffed with people. Rebecca, Billy, Barry and Carlos had joined their little group and the festivities began. Chris found it extraordinary how Claire had managed to cook so much food — and without burning it to boot. She had only replied to that with a suspicious laugh that had him waiting for everyone else to have a bite before allowing himself to dig in his food.

Dinner was — for all intents and purposes — uneventful. Bioterrorism and outbreaks were subjects they tried to steer clear of during the night, albeit inefficiently sometimes. In all truth, it was hard not to talk about certain events which were the reason they had become something close to a family. If it weren't for Raccoon City, Leon and Claire would have never met Sherry — or each other, for that fact — and Jill wouldn't have found a friend in Carlos' face. Not to mention that she and Chris may had never taken a step further in their relationship instead of being simple colleagues.

Thing was, as rough as these past years had been on them, filled with so much pain and grief, they had contributed in shaping their lives and personalities to a great extend. Friendships had been forged, relationships had been built, and all of them had learned to seize the day and not let their chances go to waste, because tomorrow was never a given. They had to fight for a shot at the future. And as exhausting as it was to hold the security of the world in their trembling hands, they had realized that they would never let it slip past their fingertips and fall into damnation. For as long as they lived, they would protect the world and the future it held.

Jill felt delighted in seeing that even Wesker's son shared their enthusiasm.

As the night dragged on, she noticed the way he tried to blend in with the rest of them, especially the guys. Leon seemed to respect the man, given the protectiveness he showed towards Sherry, and Barry didn't pass up the opportunity to pat the boy on the back whenever a story of his days as a mercenary had the older man laughing loudly. Not to mention Claire's obvious enthusiasm considering the blossoming relationship between Jake and Sherry.

Chris, however, although clearly on a good way of trusting the man, still had trouble dealing with the fact that Jake was the son of his arch nemesis. Back in China, the two of them hadn't had the best of beginnings, which was partially Chris' fault for informing Jake of his father's death from his own hand in a raw fashion. But she couldn't quite blame him either. Wesker had caused them a lot of suffering in their lives, and they had only began to release themselves of the fear of his existence when Jake made his appearance. The fear that the son could be there to finish the father's work was a hard one to shake off.

But as she watched the two of them exchange a banter of friendly nature, Jill knew that they would overcome that as well. Another member had been added to their somewhat functional family of activists. And he looked like he was there to stay.

_"You're driving a '67 Impala in 2013?"_

_"It's a classic car. Not that you'd know."_

_"Sure, I'd pick a bloody trashcan over my Ducati any day. At least you've got taste in women, Redfield."_

_"I could say the same to you, Muller."_

* * *

"So," Jill began as she took of her boots. "He's not that bad."

Chris shrugged his shoulders indifferrently, quickly catching up on what she was talking about. "He's not Wesker."

"I figured that much. He doesn't seem to have taken after him at all, actually."

"And you'd rather he had?" Chris inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Jill snorted. "Yeah, because a psychopath trying to destroy the world is exactly what's missing from my life at the moment."

Chris chuckled at her comment, before allowing a serious expression to take over his face. "He doesn't know much about Wesker. Besides that he developed a deadly virus and that I killed him."

Jill patted the empty space on the bed beside her and he hurried to occupy that seat. "I think we should tell him everything we know. He deserves to know," she said while holding his hand.

"I don't think he's ready," Chris confessed, kicking his own shoes off his feet.

"Well, then we should let him know that we'll be here when he is." She placed her hand against Chris' cheek and forced him to look at her. "This chapter won't close until he knows. It's the final step, Chris."

The BSAA Captain turned his head to press a kiss against her palm. "I'll tell him everything. But only if he seeks the answers. I won't inform him of a father he doesn't wish to get to know."

She nodded in understanding. "Fair enough."

"So," Chris said, the glimmer in his eye and the wandering of his hand under her dress indicating the change in the mood. "Is anyone getting lucky tonight?"

Jill burst out in laughter before assaulting Chris' lips with her own. "You might," she breathed against his mouth. "But no more talking."

She felt his smile against her lips. "Can do."

And as the throes of passion devoured them, Jill knew that they would somehow be alright. The world was not safe, not by a long shot. Outbreaks would always be threatening to consume humanity, and there would always be companies in line to take over Umbrella's legacy in developing bioweapons and lethal viruses.

She also knew that they would not always be there to refrain them. One day, something was going to take Chris away from her forever — or vice versa. There would be a lot more pain to feel and loss to overcome. Enemies would never stop sprouting, and evil would always be lurking in the shadows of broken homes and human vanity. Life never was — and would never be — a walk in the park. A walk through a zombie-infested cemetary, perhaps.

But as life found more exciting and horrendous ways to put them through Hell, they would always find ways themselves to prevail. They had enough experience and enough motivation to help them face any outbreak thrown in their way. They weren't foolish enough to believe that they would always get out alive. Bioterrorism was tricky. Fraud hopes of walking out as you walked in were not acceptable. When you got out there, you had to accept that you might not return home at the end of the day. The world was above themselves, and they had to ensure its future.

But as bioterrotism was reaching its peak and their end was inevitably drawing closer, Jill knew that it was the happy memories that would drive them forward. Small, victorious moments like the tight embrace she shared with Chris after the six months of their separation, or the poker nights Chris and the guys had on occasion, or like the dinner Claire had prepared for them. Those precious — but seemingly unimportant — moments gave them strength to carry on and fight for their cause.

And they would. Whether they would die tomorrow or live until they reached eighty, they would go on with their lives and try to preserve the world's balance for as long as possible. Because whatever life dished out to them, they would face it all with a stern face and a gun locked and loaded.

_Together._


End file.
